


you flow in my veins

by englishsummerrain



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blood Drinking, Bottom Lee Jeno, Deepthroating, M/M, Top Zhong Chen Le, Vampire Zhong Chen Le, Wall Sex, Werewolf Lee Jeno, sweat kink?? ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28211232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/englishsummerrain/pseuds/englishsummerrain
Summary: “Wait,” Jeno says, noticing something when Chenle opens his mouth to curse again. Chenle pauses and stares up at him, the red of his eyes shining in the light. “Are — are your fangs out?”It’s a rhetorical question. Jeno can see the answer. Chenle’s fangs are resting lightly against his plush bottom lip and he’s looking directly at Jeno like he’s a meal.“Yeah,” Chenle pants. “Jeno…”“Are youhard?”
Relationships: Lee Jeno/Zhong Chen Le
Comments: 13
Kudos: 238





	you flow in my veins

**Author's Note:**

> ao3 user englishsummerrain finally writes vampire fic...
> 
> umm.. there are too many people to blame for this one, so instead i will blame myself. yes, jeno has wolf ears. think of them as their puff live selves... ig...

“I’ll catch you at Shads at six, then?” Jisung says, mopping up the sweat from his face with his shirt then slinging it around his neck. His ears are perked up slightly and Jaemin ruffles his hair as he walks past, catching Jisung’s attention for a split second before his gaze snaps back to Jeno.

Jeno laughs. “Yeah, sure. Is everyone else coming?”

“Dunno,” Jisung says with a shrug. Every now and then Jeno catches a peek of his tail, swishing back and forth. “Maybe Renjun? Ah, you can bring Chenle along if you want?”

“If I want?” Jeno says, raising an eyebrow. “He’s your best friend.”

“He’s your boyfriend!” Jisung whines. He reaches up and scratches behind one of his ears, then sighs. “I’m just inviting him.”

“Sure,” Jeno says. “Then I’ll ask him if he wants to come.” He turns and picks up his drink bottle off the bench and takes a swig, letting a little of the cool water drip down his chin. “I guess I’ll see you then?”

Jisung’s ears perk up a little more and his tail wags quicker and he nods. “Sure! You’ll be at the full moon, too?”

“Don’t know where else I’m gonna go,” Jeno says. “Unless they’ve suddenly developed a cure to the whole werewolf thing, anyway.”

“I’m just checking,” Jisung says, laughing. He picks up the frisbee and sticks it between his teeth, waving at Jeno one last time before bounding off across the field to chase up Jaemin, ears flopping, his tail almost a blur.

Jeno watches him for a few seconds, fondness swollen in his heart, before he makes the trek back to his dorm, summer sun warm on his skin, trying not to think of how much he must stink right now.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


There are two things that happen when Jeno gets back home.

One: Chenle’s head snaps up from where he’d been playing games on his phone.

Two: he takes a deep breath and shudders.

“What?” Jeno asks, balling up his shirt and throwing it into the laundry hamper before going to walk through to their tiny kitchenette and wash his hands. 

“Were you working out?”

“I was playing frisbee.”

“Oh my god,” Chenle says. He breathes deeply again. Jeno turns the tap off and dries his hands before poking his head back through. 

Chenle is sitting on the couch, bright sunlight pooling on the cushions about a foot to the left of him, barefoot and clad in an unholy lazy combo of his ragged sweats and one of Jeno’s shirts. He has one hand resting on the armrest and the other fisted in the fabric of the couch and he’s staring at Jeno — hungry, almost.

“What?” Jeno asks again. “Am I _that_ sweaty?”

“I don’t mean to alarm you,” Chenle says, and it comes a little choked. “But you smell really, really good.”

“Wh—”

There’s a loud crack, the sound of wood splintering, and Chenle curses. “Oh fuck,” he says, jerking his hand away from the armrest. “Fuck. Shit, sorry. Fuck.”

“It’s okay, that couch needed replacing anyway,” Jeno says, though he thinks it’s more for the sake of his sanity rather than anything else.

It’s not the first item of furniture Chenle has broken unintentionally with his supernatural strength — there are multiple bends in the iron bars of their bed headboard, along with a nice imprint of Chenle’s hand in the kitchen counter — but he hadn’t bet on the couch being the next item for Chenle to damage.

“Wait,” Jeno says, noticing something when Chenle opens his mouth to curse again. Chenle pauses from examining the shattered armrest and stares up at him, the red of his eyes shining in the light. “Are — are your fangs out?”

It’s a rhetorical question. Jeno can see the answer. Chenle’s fangs are resting lightly against his plush bottom lip and he’s staring directly at Jeno like he’s a meal.

“Yeah,” Chenle pants. “Jeno…”

Jeno interrupts him, almost squeaking: “Are you _hard_?”

“That’s unrelated,” Chenle says. He swallows, saliva dripping from the sharp point of one of his fangs. “Don’t think about it.” He reaches out and rubs a thumb against his gum, hissing as his fangs come out further. 

Oh, holy fuck. Jeno’s entire body flushes at that. He’s already sweaty and hot but Christ — every time Chenle’s eyes fall on him he feels a pulse of heat, and maybe his incredulousness at Chenle’s arousal was misplaced because Jeno can feel his cock stir. 

“Uh,” Jeno says. “I should shower first.”

“No,” Chenle says, standing up. “Don’t. You — you smell so fucking good.”

“You like me like this?”

“Jeno. I—” he gestures rather helplessly at his fangs. His words are thick and slurred and he’s breathing heavily, hands curled into fists. “I feel like I’m going to tear the room up. I can _feel_ how hot you are. I can — your _sweat_.” 

Jeno knows by now the extent of Chenle’s self control — that he would never harm a hair on Jeno’s head unless he wanted it — but to see it in action, to see Chenle’s chest heave as he breathes in his scent, to see how he’s absolutely rock hard in his sweats as he stares at Jeno.

He shudders.

“Do you… have you fed?”

Chenle’s eyes glow. Bright red, wildfire skies, blood pooling underneath the surface of Jeno’s skin.

“No,” he says. “I was about to get a bag but…” His eyes trace Jeno’s body, then snap back up to his face. He reaches out — gentle, almost — and lays a hand on the side of Jeno’s neck, fingers resting on top of his pulse point. 

It’s a relief, almost. His skin is so cool that Jeno feels an instant response, the perfect contrast to the hot blood racing through his veins. 

How nice would it be to have that body draped against him?

Jeno tilts his neck to the side and looks at Chenle, whose pupils are blown wide, lips parted, breath harsh. “Then eat,” Jeno says. 

Chenle snarls a little — animalistic, like he’s the werewolf here. Like he’s not undead. He’s a young vampire — only forty or so years since he was turned — and he doesn’t carry the sophistication that some of the others Jeno knows have. Jaemin, especially — four hundred years old at this point, old enough to see empires rise and fall — tended to look down on him, but in a way Jeno liked it. 

There was a rawness to Chenle. Something bloody around the edges. Deep and dark, not quite polished, like he hadn’t quite realised he had all the time in the world.

Chenle buries his nose against the crook of Jeno’s neck and breathes deep, his skin like a cool kiss of water.

“Fuck, you’re so warm Jeno,” he murmurs, tongue darting out to press against his neck. “You smell so fucking _good_. Your skin is so…” he shudders against him. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah?” Jeno asks, swallowing harshly as Chenle’s hands come to rest on his biceps, pulling him towards him then guiding him down to sit on the couch. As soon as he sits down Chenle straddles his lap, going back to scenting him, hands running up and down his arms. He’s a nice, steady weight, and Jeno was right — he’s icy. Like a cool bath, a balm.

Except this is his vampire boyfriend. This is his fangs dragging against his skin. He’s aware of his heartbeat all of a sudden — of the roar of the blood in his ears, and he feels Chenle open his mouth and pause for a second, allowing Jeno to say no before he sinks his fangs in. 

It hurts. It always fucking hurts — a searing pain, molten lava injected into his veins that jolts through him before Chenle _moans_ , no need for shame, and Jeno feels his blood spill across his neck. His entire body jerks up and his mouth falls open, a silent scream that fades as the first wave of pleasure hits him. 

It pounds into him, like a breaker against the sea wall, slamming everything else aside, hot and surging through his blood. The first time this had happened Jeno had asked Chenle what being fed on had felt like, and Chenle had said it was kind of like an orgasm, and he hadn’t been wrong — though this is different. 

This is like coming after edging for days while someone is fingering your prostate and you’re also balls deep in someone’s ass. This is his entire focus narrowing down to where Chenle’s fangs pierce his neck, golden light crackling all over him, everything red hot and burning as Jeno tells Chenle to keep going. Chenle’s hand slips down his arm to tangle with his and Jeno squeezes tight, arching his body up into his.

Chenle kisses his neck and the wound seals up — and if Jeno wasn’t hard before he absolutely is now at the way Chenle looks. His eyes are aglow, tongue darting out to lick Jeno’s blood from his bottom lip, cheeks slightly blushed, something otherworldly about him. His fangs are full and wicked sharp and Jeno feels them press against his lips as Chenle kisses him, iron lingering in his mouth.

“More,” Jeno gasps. Chenle is a steady weight on his thighs, and he pulls back, appraising him, looking every bit like the apex predator he is. 

He raises his hand — one that had been firmly grasping Jeno’s bicep just previously — and traces a finger like cool marble over Jeno’s lips. “Later, babe,” Chenle says. “You taste so fucking good. Better than ever.” He buries his nose in Jeno’s neck again and sniffs, pressing kiss after kiss to his skin, shuddering. Kissing down, grazing his teeth against his skin. Jeno's chest is crisscrossed with scratches and bite marks, and there's moments where he feels Chenle come dangerously close to breaking the skin. Shuddering, tongue pressed at where the hot blood thrums beneath his skin.

It’s torturous — the way he knows Chenle must be starving. The way he knows he must want to drink him dry but he holds back. Eventually he pulls away — dropping down to his knees and tugging at Jeno’s shorts, eyes the colour of a blood moon.

Jeno obliges, pulling them off and throwing them onto the floor somewhere. Keeping his eyes on him, watching him. 

Chenle sits with his mouth open wide, panting, and his fangs retreat, his gaze trained on Jeno’s swollen cock. Just being the object of that attention is enough to make Jeno shudder, and he shuts his eyes, completely missing it when Chenle leans forward and sinks his mouth down onto his cock.

Jeno’s hands fly up to his hair into an instant, grabbing tight as the wet heat of his mouth envelopes him. Jeno still doesn’t know how Chenle’s mouth is hot when the rest of him is so cold — he only knows it's obscene. Obscene and wet, and Chenle wraps his lips around him and sucks at Jeno's cock, laying his tongue flat against his shaft and staring up at him with wide eyes, the sharp lines of his cheekbones cast in relief, lips plush, everything about him so hot that Jeno feels a red hot livewire of desire explode within him.

“Chenle,” Jeno gasps, and he’s panting like he’s run a marathon. His chest heaves and he wants Chenle so badly he doesn’t know what to do. It rips through him and Chenle bobs his head, gazing up at him through his lashes, sinking down on him with a fervour unbecoming of someone so cold. 

Jeno moans, throwing his head back, the noise tapering off into a half howl. His hips snap up and Chenle takes it easily, making no effort to hold him down — in fact allowing it. Hooking his hands under his thighs and lifting him up, and Jeno jerks, wave after wave of heat coursing through him as he shoves Chenle’s head down onto his cock, gasping as he takes him in all the way, throat contracting around him as he swallows. 

It feels so fucking good. Hot and wet and tight, Chenle’s nose digging into his skin, one hand underneath him and the other cradling his balls, spit slipping from the corners of his mouth with every thrust of Jeno’s cock into his throat. The heat starts to coil in his gut and Jeno whimpers, breath coming in pants, fingers fisted in Chenle’s dark hair as Chenle pulls off him, a slew of saliva falling from his mouth and splattering all over Jeno’s stomach. 

“Holy fuck,” Jeno says, and his head is spinning. He feels like he’s 7000 feet up, air thin, the whole world spinning around him as Chenle grins at him, lips spit shiny. 

“You smell _exquisite_ ,” Chenle says. His voice is hoarse but he looks so alive it sends heat trickling Jeno’s spine, and Jeno gasps, feeling every thrum of the blood beneath his skin.

“Then fuck me,” Jeno says, and if he wasn’t hard already he’s sure he would have instantly popped a boner at the growl Chenle lets out — wet, caught in the back of his throat, absolutely feral.

“Oh, fuck,” Chenle says. “I can do that.” 

He _yanks_ Jeno to his feet, almost causing Jeno to crash into him. It doesn’t seem to bother Chenle — he presses a kiss to his lips, separating to pull his shirt over the top of his head — exposing his pale skin to the light — and drop his sweats. He steps out of them and throws his shirt away , and as Jeno rakes his eyes down Chenle’s body he find himself being picked up, Chenle’s arms hooking under his thighs as he lifts him off the ground, forcing Jeno to wrap his legs around his waist and hook his arms around his neck.

This is the best thing about Chenle’s strength. It almost makes up for all the doors knocked off their hinges and dents in the furniture and the one time Chenle broke the fridge from slamming it a little too hard. 

It’s the fact that he can lift Jeno like it’s nothing. 

“Babe,” Jeno says, panting as Chenle nuzzles along his collarbone. He’s so cool, so delightfully refreshing, all his skin like porcelain under the rain, wicking off the heat from Jeno’s bones. His erection presses hard against the cleft of Jeno’s ass and Jeno groans as Chenle’s teeth graze his skin. “Babe, you gotta prep me first.”

Chenle hisses. “Fuck. Fuck, okay.”

He carries Jeno to the bedroom, walking backwards, almost knocking into the doorframe before Jeno catches it with his palm and pushes off. He stops to kiss him for a second before he spins him around and dumps him onto the bed, and as Jeno’s back hits the mattress the taste still lingers — the iron of blood, the supernatural scent that Chenle carries. Clean, sharp. His cool skin leaves him and Jeno sucks in a breath when he gets a chance to look at Chenle — at how fucking beautiful he is. Eyes wild and brilliant red, bloodied lips, pale skin, all the lines of his body. Carved curves of his biceps, his toned muscles that stand out and tense as he turns to the side and picks up the near empty bottle of lube from on top of their dresser — any semblance of shame long lost.

“You’re so warm,” Chenle says as he coats his fingers, and Jeno hisses at the press of his palm against his thigh — opening up his legs to give him access. “So much blood.”

“I thought we’d established this,” Jeno says, trying to go for joking but ending up on the side of desperation, his voice quivering. “I’m the living one. You’re the vampire.”

“Do you know how good you smell?” Chenle asks, kissing up the inside of his thigh, pressing his fangs flat against his femoral artery, inhaling deep, ignoring Jeno’s ill timed joke. “All soaked in sweat. So hot…” His fingers circle around Jeno’s hole. “Especially when I get to do this.”

He presses in and Jeno moans, the coolness of his skin a pleasant shock — something he never quite gets used to. Like cool steel, rain soaked stone, sinking into him, his cock twitching, involuntary clenching around him.

“It always feels so good to sink into you,” Chenle murmurs, nose pressed against the seam of his thigh. He groans and adds another finger. “You’re unbelievable Jeno.”

Trapped as it is against the bed, Jeno’s tail starts to wag. He writhes as Chenle fingers him open, whining, panting, focusing on the coolness of his touch — the way it seems to wick the heat that’s rolling off him like waves. 

By the time Chenle is three fingers deep, the slick slide of his hand audible and easy, his mouth is on Jeno’s balls. He’s suckling at him — wet, eager, rutting slightly against the bed — and when he pulls off it’s with a pop, his hand withdrawing, saliva dripping down all over Jeno’s cock. 

“God, I want you so badly,” Chenle says, choked. His fangs might have retreated but he still looks like he wants to devour Jeno — open wide and tear him to pieces. 

“Fuck me,” Jeno says. He’s desperate. He’s so fucking desperate. He always gets like this when Chenle feeds off him, needy for his touch. Needy for his cock. “Please, Chenle.”

And Chenle _groans_ , dragging him off the bed, grip like iron. “Come here,” he gasps, and Jeno bounds to his feet, jumping at Chenle, ears pinned back, every one of his instincts focused on one thing. 

His legs around his waist, Chenle’s hands digging into the meat of his thighs. He surges into the kiss, cock drooling where it rubs against Chenle’s stomach. Chenle lifts him up with ease and flips him around, _slamming_ him against the wall. Jeno gasps into his mouth, the sound tapering into a moan as Chenle holds him up with one hand, the other fingering at him for a second, still so cold — always so cold.

“Fuck me,” Jeno growls, claws out where he grabs at Chenle’s back, and Chenle doesn’t answer with words.

He answers by tipping his hips up and thrusting into Jeno — one long movement that punches the air from his lungs — his cock an impossible coolness amongst the heat of Jeno’s ass.

“Oh,” Jeno says, and he stills, head hitting the wall with a thud, Chenle growling as he bites at his collarbone — no fangs, just his regular abnormally sharp canines. 

Jeno takes a deep breath, shuddering as he adjusts to the intrusion. 

God. Chenle is big. Jeno’s good at taking him, but _fuck_ Chenle’s cock is big. Spreading him open, thrusting into him. Grip tight where he holds him up. Jeno quivers, tail standing straight up, all the hair on his body standing on end, trying not to let the sheer icy sensation of Chenle being inside of him take him over. 

His cock _aches,_ heavy and full, swollen with blood, so hard he quivers at the brush of Chenle’s skin against it.

“You are so, so warm,” Chenle says, mouth wet against his neck. “God. I can’t wait to fill you up with my cum.”

“Please,” Jeno says. “Please, Chenle.”

“Please what?” Chenle asks, thrusts slow, languid, every inch of him inside Jeno so painfully apparent that he feels like he’s about to go insane. The head of his cock catches on his rim and Chenle holds himself there — not pushing back in, leaving Jeno standing on the edge of a cliff. Wanting so badly to throw himself off the edge into sweet oblivion. “Answer me, Jeno.”

“Fuck me,” he says. “Fuck me and fill me up and pump me full of your cum.”

Chenle _punches_ into him, straight to the hilt, thick, cool, spreading him open as he sinks his teeth into Jeno’s skin. “Is that what you want?”

“I want you so fucking badly,” Jeno says, and he knows he’s babbling — it must be a new record considering Chenle has barely even _done_ anything to him. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember my name. I want you to mark me up like I’m your bitch. I want to taste my blood in your mouth.”

Chenle’s head whips up and he stares at Jeno, eyes wide, grip bruising. Lips parted, spit slick and shining. He takes a deep breath and Jeno shivers, aware of every inch of Chenle inside of him — the sensation amplified as he sees Chenle’s fangs are out. 

“You smell so good,” Chenle purrs. His irises are so _red,_ deep, like neon lights reflected on the wet winter asphalt. 

“Bite me,” Jeno says. His blood pulses beneath his skin, and Chenle pushes his cock deeper inside of him, hips twitching then stilling.

Jeno’s head slams into the wall, his entire body arching up as Chenle sinks his fangs into him again. This time he doesn’t hold back — this time he lets everything come loose, howling as the pain of the bite turns into pleasure, gasping and jerking in Chenle’s grip, clenching down around his cock as he drinks from him. 

“Good boy,” Chenle says, panting, still drinking, fucking into him in slow strokes. When he pulls his fangs out he snarls, and there’s blood everywhere — points of his teeth like knives, gaze aflame. 

Jeno is out of it. His head spins and all he can see is red — Chenle’s mouth, Chenle’s eyes, the blood smeared across his chin. Chenle lifts him up and brings him back down on his cock and Jeno moans, tightening his grip around his waist, digging his claws into him. 

After he’s fed Chenle always gets feral. Stronger, licking the blood from his lips, leaning up to kiss Jeno as he pistons into him, fucking him like it’s his last night on Earth.

“You feel so good,” Chenle pants. “So warm, baby. Your _ass_ —” he digs his nails into the muscles of Jeno’s ass “—is so fucking hot.”

Jeno howls again, throat bared, the noise ripped from him like the full moon hangs bright above, everything focused down to the way Chenle’s cock spreads him open — the way Jeno can feel his heart hammering, the way he knows what’s coming.

“Faster,” Jeno says, tipping his head forward. Meeting Chenle’s lips, kissing around his fangs. He takes his cock in his hand, skin slick with sweat, the relief so palpable he almost sobs at the pulse of pleasure that courses through his body at the first sign of friction. “Faster,” he repeats, and it’s wet — desperate, ripped from him. He jerks at his cock and groans, catching Chenle’s lip between his teeth as he pants into his mouth. “Fill me up, Chenle, c’mon. Fill your puppy with your cum.”

That’s all Chenle needs. Like someone had flipped a switch, and he lets loose, jerking and gasping, slamming into Jeno and spilling inside of him.

He’ll never get used to this. Chenle’s cum is _cool_ , and he can feel every drop of it inside of him, painting his insides, filling him up, until every one of Chenle’s thrusts is wet and noisy and Jeno whines as he comes, his orgasm a furious surge of heat and light as he spills all over his fist, hitting his skin and Chenle’s alike where they’re still trapped together.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Chenle insists on carrying him to the shower. He cites his fear that Jeno’s legs won’t work with how tight he’d gripped his waist as the reason, but in truth Jeno knows it’s because he wants to smell him — lick the sweat from his skin and inspect the already faded puncture wounds from his fangs.

“You’re so possessive,” Jeno chuckles, standing under the lukewarm water. Chenle sits on the counter, regarding him carefully, smiling. He’d torn the shower curtain off the rings by accident a few days ago, and Jeno couldn’t hide from him even if he wanted to — though he doesn’t mind it. Chenle has seen every part of him before, and even if Jeno is shy he welcomes the attention.

“You’re so _hot_ ,” Chenle whines. “I feel personally offended by it.”

Jeno turns around, lathering up the shampoo in his hair. “I’m sorry?”

“You should be,” Chenle says, pouting. Jeno snorts and flicks water at him off the ends of his fingertips. 

“You’re the one who went crazy at the smell of my sweat. Why today, anyway? I’ve come home sweaty before.”

“I don’t know. You just smelled—” he waves his hand around. “You smelled richer today. It was seriously the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted. Your blood, too, was just so flavourful. Like the best meal I’ve ever tasted.” 

Chenle groans, knocking his head against the mirror as he leans back.

“It feels disturbing how acclimated I am to you saying that,” Jeno notes. He washes the shampoo out of his hair and shakes it out before raking his conditioner through, massaging it against his scalp. Chenle prefers he uses unscented products — he likes the natural smell of his skin — but the texture is still luxurious, and he combs it through his hair with an almost Zen state of mind, body loose and relaxed.

“You like it, though.”

“I do. I like knowing how much you want me.”

“And how much that is is _a lot_.”

“Mmm,” Jeno hums. “Will you give me a massage after this? I think I pulled something when you slammed me against the wall.”

“You’re so demanding,” Chenle says, attempting whiny but just falling on the right side of cute. Attempt not aided at all by his smile, which is warm and fond. 

“ _You’re so demanding_ ,” Jeno repeats. He can already feel it — fresh sheets on his bare skin, Chenle’s body cool where he straddles him. 

“Fine.” Chenle crosses his arms and pouts. Jeno turns back around and rolls his eyes, ducking his head under the stream of water to wash out his hair.

“Love you,” he sing songs. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Chenle says, failing again at sounding annoyed. “Love you too.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
